


It's A Shame About Ray

by HYPERFocused



Category: due South
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:12:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2839298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HYPERFocused/pseuds/HYPERFocused
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray finds himself in a knotty situation, and Fraser wants to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's A Shame About Ray

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JackyMedan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyMedan/gifts).



> This was meant to be a lot pornier, but the guys just wouldn't comply.

It's 10:00 on a Friday night, when Ray pulls up to Billy's Club, kind of a dive, in a less than reputable part of the city known for attracting a certain kind of clientele, those with dangerous civil service jobs that don't pay for shit, and the imperative for utter discretion. Ray isn't exactly dressed to look discreet, hair spiking up and frosted, leather jacket and shit-kicker boots. Even so, he keeps things quiet where it counts. If he happens to recognize anyone, he won't say. Nor will they, he sincerely hopes.

He's there to meet someone. Isn't sure who, exactly, but he'll know him when he sees him. A slow sweep of the room, and Ray spots him. It isn't long before he's noticed in return, and the man approaches him, instead. The guy almost looks right, in the strobe-lit gloom of the club. With Ray's crap ass vision, Ray can half convince himself he's the one Ray wants. Clean cut, nearly perfect, even features, flash of bright smile. a red, wool costume Mountie uniform that Ray only knows is not quite accurate because of how closely he's observed Fraser these past months. Honestly, he'd never paid that much attention to them before he met Fraser. Now he considers himself a connoisseur. 

But the resemblance ends there. It's all superficial, because this "Fraser", unlike the real one, can dance. There's nothing stiff, or awkward about him, or at least nothing that shouldn't be stiff, considering just how close they're pressed together on the crowded dance floor. Ray can pretend that "Gordon" is "Benton" all he wants, but it's just not true. He probably isn't a Gordon, either, though the accent sounds about right. The song ends, and they find themselves back at the bar. It's too smoky for Ray's liking.  


"After an introduction like that, we should go -- talk." He offers Ray a hand up, then palms Ray's ass as he crosses in front of him. They both know they're not looking for conversation.  


Yeah, all right," Ray says. It's a stupid idea at the end of a night of stupid ideas, but it's been a hard week, and Ray doesn't want to think anymore. It's even stupider to do what he does next, which is to down his Molson in two long swallows, and follow Gordon out into the night.

None of it, not picking up the club's "Love a Man in Uniform?" flyer from the alternative bookstore, or even that ridiculous Dudley DoMeRight video, gives Ray any real pause. It isn't until he wakes up, stiff and sore, with no idea where he is, or how he's gotten there, that he knows stupid had turned into deadly.

* * *

Ray couldn't see a fucking thing. Or more properly, as Fraser would have put it, his vision was rather restricted by the soiled scarf wrapped around his eyes and nose. He didn't have to see it to know it was filthy, it stunk like gym socks stuck in a locker until next year's classes started. Ray couldn't imagine what it would have been like if Fraser had been there and had done his usual tasting thing. How the guy never made himself sick was a great mystery to him. Then again, pretty much everything about Fraser was a mystery, not least of which was where the hell was he?  


He couldn't really move much, either, and the cramps in his legs and shoulders were getting to be unbearable. The asshole who'd grabbed him and apparently drugged him was way too good with a rope for Ray's liking. Except for the whole tied up and abducted thing, Ray could believe Gordon really had once been a Mountie, or at least had some relevant training. From the thorough and intricate way he'd been trussed up, he wondered if the guy had a nautical background. Fraser would have been able to tell, just by looking at him, or sniffing, or whatever. But Fraser wasn't here.  


Ray sincerely hoped that wherever Fraser was, he was in better shape than Ray was. He thanked his not especially lucky stars that he hadn't given in to his longings and asked Fraser to go to the club with him. He hadn't been ready for that conversation. Not that he expected him to react badly outwardly, but he didn't think telling Fraser how he felt about him would do anything but make them both uncomfortable.

Uncomfortable or not, right now Ray's praying Fraser had figured him out the way he usually did. Because if Ray can't get himself out of this hellhole, which all signs point to being the case, he had to trust that Fraser would. It's not a difficult thing, trusting him. Fraser has never let him down before.

* * *

"It isn't like him to disappear like this, sir," Fraser tells Lt. Welsh on Sunday afternoon. He doesn't know where Ray is, which is unusual, since they'd made arrangements to meet and do some holiday shopping the day before, but Ray never appeared. This denied Diefenbaker his weekly donut, as well, and Fraser can tell the beast is worried. It's still somewhat novel to Fraser, all of the ways one can celebrate their beliefs in Chicago. None of the limitations growing up as far north as he did entailed.

"Kowa--Vecchio's a grown man, Fraser. I'm sure he can take care of himself." Welsh's tone is a little patronizing, as if Fraser is given to needless worrying about the people he loves. And he does. He loves Ray, and couldn't really care less who knows it. Still, that isn't quite true, because he hasn't told Ray. Right about now he feels like the biggest coward in the world.

"Ray's self-sufficiency isn't in question. This just isn't like him. There's something wrong here." Fraser garners permission to stop by Ray's apartment to check things out.

Ray's place is empty, just as Fraser had feared. But it was not without clues to where he had been, and why. The flyer from Billy's Club. And finally, that video. The name is just ludicrous. Dudley DoMeRight? As if the regular cartoon character wasn't bad enough. Fraser has to rethink his assumptions about Ray, and what Ray feels for him. He's going to rethink a lot of things, once they find Ray, and he's safe again.  


Billy's is closed when Fraser gets to it, but the owner was home in the loft above the club, and let Fraser in to look around. There isn't much to be found there, until he spots a flash of silver on the ground: it's Ray's bracelet. He would never leave it willingly. It's clear, whatever has happened to him was not by his own choice. The owner has made himself scarce, which arouses Fraser's suspicions, greatly. He calls for back-up. He can faintly hear muffled thumps coming from the building's basement level, and rushes down to investigate.  


Ray looks horrible, and wonderful, all at once. Wrists raw, where he's almost managed to free himself. Fraser cuts through the bindings, and removes the cloth from around Ray's face, shielding him from the light that while low, is still a shock to Ray's system. 

The rescue is almost non-eventful when it comes. His abductors have left Ray alone since he's been in there. Ray can hear Fraser's distinctive voice from the building's air chutes, and knows it's only a matter of time. Even so, the last few moments feel like they could be months.

* * *

Ray's given leave for the next week, though he hasn't asked for the time off. Fraser visits every day. Hell, he practically moves in. But something is weird about him, and finally Ray figures it out. Fraser saw that video, and now he's even more uncomfortable around Ray than he ever was.  


But when he comes home from his first day back on the job, feeling a little frazzled, Fraser is waiting for him in an unexpected place. Dressed in his full red serge, in Ray's bed. "I'm sorry, Ray. I never knew before. I always wanted..." His voice trails off, until Ray leans down to kiss him, and it's such a damn relief, to know that they're on the same page for this.  


He hadn't expected Fraser to be such a kinky bastard, but he had to admit, Fraser's suggestion for how Ray could get over the whole ordeal was ingenious. "Somewhat of a 'hair of the dog that bit you' sort of thing" was Fraser's explanation. 

"I always did like the way you think, Frase," Ray admitted, raising his hands to the bars on his headboard, and waiting for Fraser to give him what he only recently realized he needed.


End file.
